Meeting with Grandmama Everglot
by Paul P.S. Sullivan
Summary: [Corpse Bride] Maudeline Everglot faces a horror unimagineable...a visit from her granddaughter. Oneshot. Originally from Misc.


A/N: This story takes about six years after the events of the movie.

Disclaimer: I do not own Maudeline Everglot or Emile. However, I do own Emily van Dort.

* * *

Meeting with Grandmama Everglot

"_Tell me where is fancy bred, or in heart or in head?"_

Merchant of Venice, Act III, scene 2

* * *

It all began with the doorbell tolling. 

Maudeline shook her head as she set down her tea. She got up from the armchair and shuffled to the parlor window. Pulling the curtain aside, she noticed a small girl in a brown coat standing on doorstep, a suitcase that easily dwarfed her positioned beside her. She sighed, aggravated as she watched Emile open the door and the little figure timidly filed in as the aged butler lifted the suitcase and carried it inside with evident difficulty.

Maudeline pulled the curtain back and crossed her arms, scowling. What audacity that they had to reduce a woman of the proud house of Everglot to a nanny! As if they assumed she had nothing better to do that week!

"Madam," Emile announced as he entered the parlor, closing the door behind him. The woman turned to her butler, still wearing her expression of repugnance. "Your grand-daughter is here."

"Very well, Emile," Maudeline replied, waving her hand dismissively as she walked towards the door. She turned the doorknob and, opening the door, stared down at the little girl. Maudeline had only met the child once before and the first impression she had was that her granddaughter was a wasp. Indeed, the child had enormous round eyes on a tapering face and spindly legs protruding from her gray skirt. If there had been a set of wings tucked behind her back as well as a pair of antennae atop her head, she could have easily been an insect.

The girl was fussing with her dull brown locks, curling it around her fingers nervously as she looked up at Maudeline, like a grasshopper would at a ravenous bird. Her fingers immediately stopped twirling and her hand slid down to her side, grabbing the hem of her coat.

"Hello, Granny Maudeline," the girl said suddenly, curtseying. "How are you-"

"Do not refer to me as 'Granny', Emily," Maudeline interrupted curtly. "'Granny' is for those who see their grandmothers as crones and not as figures of respect. I certainly hope you do not see me as a crone!"

"I don't," Emily squeaked. "I don't, Granny-uh, Grandmama."

"Yes, and you do not refer your elders by their first names," Maudeline added. "I am not one of your schoolyard friends. Now, try it again."

Emily once again lifted the sides of her skirt and curtseyed.

"Hello, Grandmama Everglot," she said, loudly. "How are you today?"

"Quite well, thank you," Maudeline replied, her tone still curt. "And you as well, child?"

"Oh," Emily stood up straight, "good, I guess. Mother is getting ready to have my baby brother or sister. Daddy fainted when she began screaming at lunchtime. I was supposed to go to Granny-um, Grandmother van Dort next week, but she and Grandfather are still traveling a board-"

"_Abroad_, child," Maudeline corrected her. "'They are still traveling abroad'."

"Oh, yes, Grandmama," Emily replied sheepishly.

"How do you take your tea?" Maudeline asked, suddenly.

"Hmm, what?"

"How do you take your tea? I certainly hope you are not entirely uncultured to understand the concept of tea."

"Oh, uh, I don't really like tea."

Maudeline promptly raised her eyebrow suspiciously. The little girl gulped as she began twiddling her fingers, thinking of something to say.

"I prefer milk for tea, Grandmama," she finally said.

"Very well," Maudeline sighed as she sat down on the settee. In front of her was a low table with a floral table cloth draped over it. Upon the cloth rested a white china tea service with a plate of scones and cucumber sandwiches in neat little triangles. "You may sit down."

Emily climbed up into the armchair across from the table.

"Take off your coat," Maudeline added, before Emily sat down. "Unless you're planning on leaving immediately, coats must not be worn inside."

Emily began unbuttoning her coat. Sliding it off, she placed it on her lap as she sat down. Suddenly, a rough "ahem" was heard beside her. Emily looked up. Emile was holding his hand out, eying the tiny coat. The child, realizing his intent, handed him her coat.

"Thank you," she said quietly as she watched Emile walked out of the parlor with the coat. Another "ahem" was heard, making Emily promptly turn and face her grandmother. Maudeline was pouring milk from the china creamer into a tea cup, holding it by the saucer. She then got up and walked to Emily.

"Your milk," Maudeline delicately lowered the cup and saucer into the girl's hand and then made her way back to the couch.

"Thank you." Emily, the saucer in her right hand, began to tip the cup into her mouth. She took a small gulp of the milk when Maudeline coughed.

"Milk or tea," she rasped as she sat back down and took her tea cup, "it is to be sipped and _not_ gulped."

Nervously, Emily swallowed her milk and began to experiment with her sips. Mother had told her the same thing at teatime over at her house and, odds were, Grandmama didn't tolerate slurping either.

"Have you begun school yet?" Maudeline asked, setting down her cup. Emily looked up from her cup. She followed suit and pressed her fingertips together in thought.

"I'm beginning school in two weeks," Emily explained. "Mother and Father say I'm going to Arcadia Academy."

"Humph," Maudeline scoffed quietly. "The Everglots have been going to Rutherford for five generations. It is a fine school, brought up many a fine Everglot lady for society."

"Grandmother van Dort says Arcadia is a good school," Emily replied, "That many lords and ladies send their daughters there. She says I'm good enough to be there."

"_In spite of being a child of nouveau riche_," Maudeline thought to herself. She inspected Emily mentally. "_Still, if she gets proper instruction, there may be hope for her yet."_

"Have you begun your reading and writing skills?"

"Well, yes."

"What books have your parents started you on?"

Emily rubbed her chin (she had seen Grandfather van Dort do the same). "Well, I've read 'A Child's Garden of Verses', 'The Princess and the Goblin', and the Brothers Grimm. I liked the one about the three spinner ladies. I'm almost done with 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland'. Oh, and also, Father gave me this book on insects by Lord Joseph Ranft. So far, I've found twenty of what's in his book in Father's garden."

"Really?" she asked in a strained tone. Maudeline began squirming inside.

"Yes," Emily said, enthralled. "There was this one time I found a spider's egg sac in a rose bush and it looked so much like cotton but it glistened with the sun came out. I picked it up and I showed it Mary- that's our maid- but she screamed, saying that I sneezed in my hand-"

"Emily," Maudeline interrupted, reproachfully, "picking up spider webs and bugs, especially with her bare hands, is not an appropriate thing for a young lady to do with her time!"

Emily sucked on her lip, an apologetic expression on her face. Looking at the child, Maudeline sighed.

"I am harsh because I have to be," she said. "Breeding and manners are accounting for less these days."

"I'm sorry, Grandmama," Emily said softly. Maudeline shook her head.

"When your mother and father come to collect you, I will speak to them about your...training. I would like you to make a point in seeing me after school for finishing lessons."

"Finishing lessons?"

"To further improve your etiquette," Maudeline explained. "It is better to start sooner than later."

"Y-yes," Emily replied reluctantly. "Um, Grandmama, where am I sleeping tonight?"

* * *

Armed with a candelabrum, Maudeline ventured through the darkened hallway. Trailing behind, Emily looked around at the strange faces that covered the walls. They all appeared to be scowling at her. Emily rubbed her arm, shivering slightly. However, she spotted a familiar face upon the wall as Maudeline passed by it. A soft heart-shaped face that smiled demurely, Emily stared at it. The portrait was cracked with age and the figure was dressed in old clothes. Emily smiled, nonetheless, for it looked like her mother. 

"That not your mother," Maudeline said. Emily jumped, startled. "That is your Great-great Aunt Matilda. But of course, the resemblance between her and Victoria is startling. She had so much in common with Matilda, besides her appearance."

"Yes," Emily replied, running her hand down the portrait's frame. "I imagine she was quite lovely."

"She was divorced," Maudeline said, repulsed. "Hardly something to aspire to."

Emily fell silent. Glancing over at the portraits, a thought came to her.

"Have you ever met Emily?"

Maudeline looked at her. "What?"

"The one I was named for," Emily explained. "Emily. Father said that she was the one who helped him fall in love with Mother."

"You should not be asking such questions," Maudeline sniffed after a pause. "It's not polite."

Emily refrained from asking any more questions, at least until after they found Emily's room. The furniture, save for the bed, was covered in white sheets. When Emily touched the chair shaped one, a dot of dust appeared on her fingertip. The bed, to her relief, wasn't covered in dust. A fresh pillow was at the head of the bed and a quilt and a comforter were folded neatly at its foot. Her suitcase rested beside it.

"The washroom is at the end of the hall," Maudeline stated, "supper is at seven and I expect you to be washed up."

"Yes, Grandmama," Emily replied. Maudeline turned to leave when she heard a cough. "I-I'm glad to be staying here with you, Grandmama."

Maudeline doesn't reply and left the girl alone in her room, closing the door behind her. The old woman let out a sigh as she walked down the hall, the light of the candelabrum glowing dimly.

It was going to be an exhausting couple of days.

_Fin

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_


End file.
